Hello, bonjour,
Sitting around a table is one of my favourite places to be. Or maybe it is my favourite place to be, only just ahead of wandering a farmers’ market or in the kitchen fondling the warm cherries we just picked from the tree down the road. Or sitting on a rock by the sea with a peach and a bowl of prawns waiting to be peeled, drenching them in lemon and letting yourself get messy and sticky because a dive is only minutes, or seconds, away. But, the table. Growing up, a seat at the table was always a place of comfort and conversation, of familiarity and family. The country, the school and the market smells may have been different, but the rituals, the French-blue Le Creuset pot and the roast chicken were (mostly) always the same, from Suva to Canberra to Port Moresby to Washington D.C. And perhaps this is what gave me my love of food; eating it, yes, but also that each and every night, with a table and food came a time of joy, ease, laughter and connection, to my clan, to the new place we called home and eventually, to a new community of people.
Luckily, this great love turned into work, sometimes on the floors of restaurants, sometimes in the kitchens of them; some years at Australia’s Gourmet Traveller magazine; some years in studios and on sets for television or magazines; and more recently, on the editing of beautiful cookbooks. It’s always fun, it’s always delicious. And at the heart of it, always, is a group of brilliant people (and often slightly insane, in the best kind of way) coming together because of food.
Through it all, I’ve come to understand and firmly believe that food is about something far greater than the plate, piece or photograph in front of you. Food is nourishment and nurturing. It’s community, connection, celebration, conviviality, collaboration. It’s climatic and environmental, it’s cultural and it’s political; it’s about history and traditions. It’s fun, frivolous, flirtatious and it’s friendship; it’s pleasure, it’s beauty and it’s romance. How and what we cook, eat and buy is about something deep. And so, too, is how we write, photograph and talk about food. But at the same, it’s simply what brings us all to the table, what starts the conversation. The learning is endless, and the more I understand about the complex world of food, in our increasingly complex world, the more I understand how much I have yet to learn.
I suppose in large, it was through this great love of food, my relentless curiosity and a never-ending compulsion to understand growing, cooking and eating it, and the people behind it all, that I packed up Australian life and moved to France. To eat, to dance, to speak French, to pick wild flowers, yes, but largely to deepen my understanding of food in all its facets; to spend time with the people mindfully growing it and the people mindfully cooking it in our world today.
So, with my other compulsion — to document — I have created this: a place, a space. A Journal to share stories of brilliant people doing brilliant and important things in food, from farms to kitchens to embroidery ateliers to studios — the farmers, the producers, the chefs and cooks, the writers, the photographers, the ceramicists, the artists, the creatives; to share the food I’m cooking, growing, eating or reading about; to share conversations I’m having, or books I’m reading, or songs I’m hearing from the cities I’m wandering or kitchens I’m cooking in; or maybe, to simply share a story. And probably, to share an occasional snap of my wrinkly hands clutching the season’s first plump fig.
Food. It’s big, and there are endless stories and there is endless learning. And I want to share it all, like we’re sitting around a table, and to maybe, hopefully be part of bringing a little beauty, a little escape, a little taste, a little story on human possibility, a little thought to your day.
Alors. Thank you for landing here, at the bottom of my words. It means a lot. And it will be pure joy to keep sharing with you.
— Harriet
HOW IT WORKS
As a subscriber, every fortnight, you’ll receive A Journal piece, straight to your inbox. From me to you.
Or, if it feels like a good thing for you, you can sign up to be a paying subscriber. This means you’ll hear from me each fortnight, and have access to the archives of all the pieces that I’ve shared here on this site — my writing, my photographs, my thoughts on delicious things to cook or divine ways to move through a city. Much of my work revolves around profiling and promoting people doing wonderful and important work in food so you’ll be supporting them, too. And, most likely, I’ll use the monthly $5 subscription cost to pay for a bunch of beautiful chard grown by someone clever that will morph into my breakfast with little more than a quick blanch, a drenching of olive oil and a squeeze of lemon. So it’s all a circle, you see. And you’ll be part of a community that, I think, will be a lovely time.
If you would like a full subscription but can’t quite afford it at the moment, please write to me — I’d love to pop you on the list.
In any case, I am most grateful for your support, and I’m so glad you’re here. 🌹
